Hop, Skip and Jump
by pbk
Summary: HP/Jumper Crossover, WIP. rating subject to change. What happens when a witch and a Jumper meet? What happens when they keep running into each other? Can each help the other find what they're looking for? Friendship, eventual pairing.
1. Griffin Meets Gryffindor

*author's note: I obviously own neither HP nor Jumper, so, you know... well, that's enough disclaimer. This is just something I got the itch to do. I always thought Ginny had way more potential than she was given in the HP books, so I like the idea of doing other stuff with her, and I thought it would be fun to throw her with Griffin and see what happens. These will all be one-shots, but will weave themselves into a bigger picture of a story as I add more of them. I have a hard time writing young Ginny, but I wanted to have them meet in Egypt when the Weasleys went after CoS and before PoA. I figured that could be around the time that Griffin was scouting out locations for his lair. Anyway, I wanted to get the meeting out of the way so the next encounters can be more fun. If you enjoy, let me know, if you don't, then just don't read it, k?

**Griffin Meets Gryffindor**__

_August 1993 ~ Egypt_

_Ginny Weasley knew she had no business being out of her tent at this time of night. Well, technically, it was morning, but that was beside the point. The point was that the night air was crisp, and cool, and Ginny was suffocating under the attentions of her family. Every waking moment, her skin crawled with the sensation of eyes, watching her. _

_They were afraid._

_Ginny had been touched, and no one was quite sure if there would be any lasting taint. Maybe there was, she thought, as she reveled in the inviting night, away from the smothering hover of those that loved her most. _

_Ginny sighed, supporting herself against a slab of carved rock protruding from the sand. She had wandered so far she could barely see the tent in the darkness. The sand felt cool and she dug her bare toes in it, burrowing down as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. For a moment, a cocoon of total contentment enveloped her._

_Then, like a balloon, it burst, with an audible *pop*._

_In a flash, her wand was in her hand and her eyes were open and alert. She stood straight and threw her head and shoulders back, finding herself face to face with a teenaged boy whose look of indignation was morphing into a bemused smirk at the sight of the little girl standing in front of him, brandishing a stick and looking very nervous._

"_What are you gonna do with that, then, love?" _

_The voice with the slight Cockney lilt drew her focus from its owner's face to the wand in her hand. She pulled it back towards her, but did not lower it._

"_I'll… gouge your eyes out with it." She mentally rolled her eyes at herself for her inferior comeback, but she was still in a state of shock. He appeared out of nowhere, so he must have Apparated, right? Meaning he was a wizard._

_So where was his wand?_

_He took a step closer to her, then another. He looked down on her, his keen eyes piercing through her. "Kinda far away from home, aren't you, little girl?" His whisper tickled the length of hair that covered her ear, but when her eyes flashed upwards he was standing back from her, several steps away. She pooled all her courage and set her jaw, jutting her chin forward. "I just went for a walk. What business is it of yours? You don't own the desert." For a split second, he looked both incredulous and irritated, then finally confusion washed over his features. His gaze penetrated her, as though he was trying to bore into her mind, see who she really was. _

_Or who she wasn't._

_What was this little girl doing out here? Better yet, how did she get out here to begin with? There's nothing out here, not for miles. And what's with that stick she's holding? What does she really think she's going to do with that? _

_Ginny watched the various expressions that flit across the boy's face. Finally he arches one satirical brow, but the expression is betrayed by the tremor of caution in his voice. "So, love, you never did say where exactly it was you walked here from." Using her wand, Ginny points behind the boy towards her tent, but when he turns back to her with a blank stare she remembers the Illusionment charm around their campsite, making it appear like a sand dune to anyone except a Weasley. Rolling her eyes, she shrugs and again lowers her wand. "Trust me, there's a tent over there. Anyway, you don't hear me asking where you came from, do you?" _

_They locked eyes for a moment, one sizing up the other. Then the boy shook his head, laughing. "Fair enough, love." Ginny scooted over a bit as he plopped himself down beside her, landing with a thump as he sat down. She slid down the rock, slowly, until she was sitting next to him. Inherently, Ginny knew she should be wary, but more than anything she was curious about his presence. Besides, it was kind of nice to be around someone who was studying her for more than signs of an imminent freak-out._

_He watched her brow contract as the girl seemed to lose herself in her thoughts. Obviously, she wasn't a Paladin, and he could tell instinctively she wasn't a Jumper, but there was definitely something about her. He could feel it in her aura, her presence. She was definitely young, although he'd been on his own at a much younger age, and she didn't seem to be at all afraid to be in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night. He wondered briefly if this place had called to her as it had to him, brimming with that sense of isolated security that he so desperately needed._

_That she needed, as well._

"_Oi," he nudged her gently with his elbow, extracting her from her silent soliloquy and placing her back in the present, "got a name, do you?" She pondered his request for a moment, and as if settling some internal debate she nodded, and stuck out her hand. "Ginevra. Ginny. People call me Ginny." She pulls her hand back and runs it through her hair, looking over at him inquisitively. "Well?" _

"_Well, what?"_

_She just continued to look at him expectantly. "Come on. Fair's fair. I told you my name. You tell me yours." For a split second the look on his face turns so sour Ginny thinks he might not actually tell her, but then he sighs and looks out over the moonlit desert. _

"_Name's Griffin." _

_A childish snort escapes her before she can stop it. "You're not serious," she mutters without thinking, not minding the offended expression on Griffin's face. "Think my name's funny, do you? At least my name doesn't sound like some wannabe Camelot, mists of Avalon throwback." At this Ginny's hand flies over her mouth, and she turns away to stifle her giggles. "I'm sorry," she chokes out as she attempts to regain control, "you would be mythical, too, wouldn't you?" Her fingers pull under her eyes, wiping away the tears that forced their way out with her laughter. Griffin turns away from her, looking rather miffed. "Oh, come on. I ignored your little Camelot comment." Ginny leans over, brushing against his arm with her shoulder. "I like your name. I'm sure it's…. fitting. Griffin; of earth and sky, human and divine." _

_Griffin couldn't tell if she kept talking. He had never thought of it before, the mythical implications of his name. Sure, he knew what a griffin was supposed to be, but he had forgotten what they symbolized. _

_Only God should have that power._

_But maybe, they were the gods, after all. Divine will; divine right. Theirs to exercise. Suddenly Griffin felt an urgency overtake him. He wanted to set up shop, get ready. _

_Get moving._

_He stood up abruptly and put out both his hands. Without thinking, Ginny put her hands in his and felt up haul her upwards, lifting her back to her feet. "Well, then, it's been lovely, but I really must be off. Where did you say your tent was again?" Ginny motioned with her chin towards the site, but before she could open her mouth to speak she felt a slight pull around her and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she was standing not two feet away from her tent. She looked at Griffin, her unasked question in her eyes, but his smug look was her only response, so instead of pressing the issue, she just smiled. "Thanks for the lift," she whispered, walking towards her tent, ignoring the look of disbelief on Griffin's face when he saw what appeared to be a dark expanse, like a hole, form over the curve of the dune, swallowing Ginny inside it, then disappearing. He walked over and gingerly touched the dune with the tips of his fingers, feeling nothing but sand beneath them. He took a few steps back, still watching the dune, then jumped, leaving nothing but a whirl of sand behind him on the early morning breeze._


	2. Do Not Enter

_*There's some very mild swearing in this update, nothing I feel the need to change the rating for, but I figured I'd warn you just in case… _

_**vballmania23**__- thanks for reviewing! It's always great to get that first review, especially five minutes after posting. Yay you!_

**Do Not Enter**

_July1994 ~ London_

_(Ginny's POV)_

I couldn't believe that my mother had agreed to let me go shopping with Hermione in Muggle London. Sure, I wasn't exactly shopping, per se, as shopping required money, which is something I never have much of, but it was fun to look around, people watch, and spend time with my friend without Ron and Harry around. When it's just the two of us, I feel as though she and I were actually friends, instead of just being a tag-along with the Golden Trio.

Mrs. Granger, arms laden with clothing, decided that Hermione needed to try on every single article before purchase, so in lieu of sitting in a chair outside a fitting room, mumbling 'yeah, that looks good' without ever raising my eyes for the next hour and half, I decided to wander around the plaza, making a solemn vow to Hermione to not 'wander too far' or 'get in any trouble.'

Trouble, however, seems to have a way of finding me, whether I avoid it or not.

I was walking past the food court when I noticed another of those doors that seems to go nowhere. It wasn't the entrance to a shoppe, it wasn't labeled… it wasn't locked.

I opened the door, just a crack, and peered inside. The lighting was dim, barely illuminating the long hallway that seemed to lead nowhere. The walls were rough paneling, looking for all the world like a house half built. I guess they weren't intending it to be on public display. I was about to pull my head back, let the door close, when the sound of muffled voices drew my attention. One of the voices sounded calm, but angry, while the other sounded buoyant and… vaguely familiar. I flatten myself as close to the wall as I can, staying out of the vague lighting. I start to creep towards the source of the noise but before I can get far I hear the door I just past through open again. I duck into a dark corner and hold my breath, watching as a totally humorless looking woman stalks by. She's wearing a shapeless suit, as grey as wash water, and is carrying some sort of briefcase. If she's aware of my presence, she makes no notice of it, and I feel sure she's heading the same place I am, so naturally I do what any other curious feline would do.

I follow her.

* * *

_(Griffin's POV)_

I know this guy can't be alone. Paladins always travel in pairs, if not more. This arsehole must be new; I'm baiting him, and he's letting me. What I'm really doing is stalling, waiting for the other to show up. I don't want to engage until I know exactly what I'm up against. I keep jumping, in front of him, behind him, again and again. He's trying to maintain his composure, and if it were anyone else, he'd have them fooled, but it's me.

And I'm nobody's fool.

In my peripheral vision I see her, rounding the corner, cable gun already in hand. This one knows what she's doing. This one I recognize. I adjust my grip on the baseball bat I hold in my hand, rolling slightly on the balls of my feet. She doesn't even bother with the usual spiel about God and power. Her briefcase drops as she takes aim and I jump, barely missing the cable that juts towards me, twitching with electricity. Now that she's here the other guy seems way more confident, and he joins her in taking shots at me, missed hits singeing everything in the narrow corridor. I jump out of the way of a cable shot from the man, and right into the path of a hit from her. My eyes widen, disbelieving, as I look past the cable flying towards me, my vision locking not on the Paladin, but behind her, at the red-headed girl with a stick in her hand and a fury in her eyes.

_Stupefy._

I don't know why, or how it happened, but in a flash of red light the Paladin went sailing down the hallway, gun clattering to the floor, her body hitting the wall with a loud thump. Quick as a flash she turned towards the other Paladin, who had already dropped his weapon and was staring in shock at the girl who was brandishing her stick in his face like a wand.

A wand. Sure. Anything that unbelievable must be true. Shite, look at me.

"We ok here?" Her question is for me, but her eyes never leave the man cowering in front of her. I can't help but laugh a bit at the surreality of the situation. "Yeah," I reply, "just give me a second." I grab the Paladin and jump, dumping him off on the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro, then jump back. I pick up the dropped weapons and pocket them before turning back towards the girl, who smirks back at me knowingly as she sheathes her wand.

"Friends of yours?"

I shake my head, sobering. "Paladins are friends to no one, love." "Well, then," she muses, "I guess you're lucky witches are." Of course, that's what she is, a witch, but still, it's strange to hear her say it, all nonchalant, like it's no big thing. "I can handle myself," I shrug, not acknowledging her well-timed assistance, "I have been for a long time." She rolls her eyes, not convinced. "Well, what do we do about…?" When she trails off I turn, letting my eyes follow the path of hers, to the place on the floor where the fallen Paladin woman was laying.

Was. Not anymore. Shite.

Sometime during our brief exchange she had regained consciousness and slipped away. Suddenly, the realization of our situation seemed to kick in, and she began to look nervous. "Look," she started, chewing on her lip, "I just broke about ten laws in the past two minutes. I don't wanna press my luck. I need to get back to my friend- pronto." I take her hand and ask her where her friend is. "Desigual, the women's fitting room." Before she can blink we're standing by the seats in the waiting area of the shoppe's fitting rooms. I take the tips of her fingers in my hand and gallantly help her to her seat. She looks up at me a bit coyly and smiles, pressing my hand gently before withdrawing hers. "See you around, Griff." I frown at her severely, but I can tell by her giggles that she's not very intimidated. "Don't call me Griff, Ginevra." Her brow furrows in turn, but her slight blush is telltale that she's happy I remembered her name. "It's Ginny," she grounds out, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Well, then, Ginny," I lean towards her, dropping my face close to hers to whisper before jumping, "thanks."


	3. Eureka Moment

_***Trixie-K** (I've always wanted to nickname Bellatrix 'Trixie'): Thanks for the review, I love that I'm not the only one who likes this crossover pairing. As far as the ages go, if Gin was born in 1981 then she'd have been 12 in Ch. 1 and 13 in Ch. 2. I'm making Griffin be a few years older than her, so I'm thinking around the latter part of his mid-teens when they first meet in Egypt. Hope that clears it up! Thanks for reading!!!_

_

* * *

  
_

Eureka Moment

_October 1994, Hogwarts_

_(Ginny's POV)_

I look over at Hermione and could almost swear that behind the furrow of her brow joy is lurking, trying not to show itself. We're both working on essays for History of Magic (different classes, of course). While I can barely keep my eyes open, she can barely tear hers away. The book in front of her is crumbling, dusty, and at least a foot thick. The kind of book she lives to read. I, on the other hand, am staring at a similar book without seeing it, my mind a million miles away. Sighing, I turn the page I've been not reading, and begin pretending to read the next page, randomly scanning, when suddenly a word jumps out at me.

Paladin.

I know that word. I squeeze my eyes shut, wringing out my memory, trying to find the context in which I heard the word.

Oh, yes. There it is. Griffin.

Those people at the mall, the ones who were trying to kill him- he called them Paladins.

Suddenly, I'm much more interested in my reading material.

* * *

Hours later, I'm still reading, only now I'm in the common room, having been ejected by an angry Madam Pince hours ago. I had been in the library over an hour after closing and apparently I had slipped her notice, so when she found me, she wasn't too happy. Magical history has never been my favorite subject, and Professor Binns usually leaves his students feeling as dead as he is, but I can't stop reading. Paladins, the Twelve Peers, the Knights of Charlemagne, the Knights of Arthur, defenders of the true faith, the ultimate representation of Christian martial valor. After all these years, these guys are still around.

And apparently, they mean business.

My thoughts turn back to Griffin. I know he's not a wizard, but he's definitely something. There's power there. Power they don't want him to have. Power to drive men to kill. They must not know about us, but then, while we don't outnumber all Mugglekind, we certainly outnumber a group of religious fanatics. Religious fanatics responsible for centuries of witch trials, of religious dominance, of persecution.

I don't like them already.

I let my book fall closed, my place marked by the piece of parchment I've been using for notes. I scan the room until my eyes lock on Ron, futilely playing Hermione in Wizard's chess. I walk over to their corner of the room and sit next to them, watching their game. Neither takes notice of me. Finally, hesitantly, I breach the subject.

"Hermione, you're a Muggleborn." She makes a non-committal 'hmm' sound, but doesn't look up from her game. "So, how did that work exactly? You got your Hogwarts letter and your parents let you come and study magic. Did someone from the school come and explain things to your parents, prove to them that magic exists, or did they just believe a letter sent to you by an owl?" I've finally caught Hermione's attention. She pushes her chair back slightly and turns towards me. "Well, we had a staff member deliver my Hogwarts letter, and give us information such as how to get into Diagon Alley, background info on Hogwarts, that sort of thing. I think it was easy for my parents to believe because… well, there had been a few… incidents. The fact that I was a witch put a lot of things into a less confusing perspective."

I listen patiently, waiting for the conversation to reach where I want it to go. "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that your parents didn't believe in magic, or in Hogwarts. Or that they believed it, but weren't willing to send their kid off without knowing where they were going. I know that Muggles who stumble upon Hogwarts see nothing but ruins, but surely there has to be a way for Muggles to come inside. What if you were hurt, and your parents wanted see you, but you couldn't be moved from the school? Would they be able to be brought in? Would they be able to see the castle now because they know of the existence of magic? Won't they want to come for your graduation? How does all that work?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair for a moment, thinking deeply. "I know there's a way for Muggles to get in," she states finally, "but I'll have to research exactly how that works." She disappears into her dorm room, and comes back with her ever faithful copy of _Hogwarts- A History_. She peruses the index, then starts skimming through a chapter. "A-ha! Found it!" Hermione lowers the book triumphantly, then turns to face me. "A Muggle can enter the castle if they are led in by a witch or wizard and have been specifically invited into the castle. That would explain how they can get in for a graduation, or for Muggle parents to visit their child on campus." I think for a moment, trying to formulate a plan, trying to cover all my bases. "Does it have to be a staff member that extends the invitation?" Hermione looks back down at the book, rereading a particular paragraph. "It doesn't stipulate, it just says 'witch or wizard.' Why do you ask, anyway?" I shrug, blowing off the question. "Just curious."

* * *

I try to keep my hands from shaking with excitement. I have absolutely no justification for doing this, but I can't help myself. I want to know. I'll go nutters if I don't find out. I loosen my grip on the short roll of parchment in my hand so as to not crush it. I go into the common room and plop myself on the couch next to Harry, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. "Hey, Harry, can I borrow Hedwig?" He seems a bit taken back by the request, but immediately agrees. "Sure, just hit up the Owlery." I make my way up the stairs slowly, and walk over to Hedwig's perch. I run my hand lightly over her head and whisper to her. She follows my face with her alert eyes, understanding. "Find Griffin if you can. Try Egypt first. If you can't find him, bring the letter back to me, and only to me. If you do find him, stay with him until he responds to the letter." Hedwig puts out a leg, accepting my charge, and I tie the parchment to her and step back as she flies away.

_Here goes nothing._

_

* * *

_*_I have no premise for my information about Muggles getting into Hogwarts. I tried to do some research on it but couldn't find any relevant information, so I just made up what I thought sounded good. Next one shot will be from Griffin's POV._


	4. Birds of a Feather

**Birds of a Feather**

Griffin shook the sand out of his hair briskly, tossed his bag onto his chair, and grabbed a bottle of water, chugging at it mercilessly. _Killing Paladins makes me thirsty,_ he thinks to himself, tossing his empty water bottle on a table and grabbing another, taking half of it in one pull.

Actually, it _is _quite a workout, taking down Paladins, running them around in circles until they trip up, keeping yourself from being caught in their mechanical web. It's like being on red alert, all the time. Living on standby, ready to become active at the drop of a hat.

You never know when they're coming for you.

So they best not know when you're coming for them.

Griffin downed the rest of his water and stretched languidly, walking towards the opening of his lair, out into the newling dusk. The sun was melting over the horizon, drenching the sand in liquid gold, leaving the sky hued grey with its absence. He let his eyes roam over the horizon, gliding past the nothingness that surrounded him, until something bright caught his eye. A pure whiteness, glistening, tremoring.

Perched on a rock right outside the entrance of his lair.

Griffin walked over, cautiously, slowly. He saw that it was an owl, but couldn't believe that one was perched there, in the desert, sun still out, far away from anywhere. He had never seen an owl at all around these parts, and certainly not one as white as snow. It stood out, gleaming, like a beacon of light. He could feel it watching him as he approached. Sizing him up. Judging him. He suddenly got the feeling that this owl was here for him. Not looking at him; looking for him. As he got closer he saw that there was something stuck on its leg, some sort of paper. When he got close enough to touch it, the bird stuck its leg out, an obvious offering. He reached out tentatively and took the rolled paper from the owl. There, written clearly on the roll, was his name.

_I must be going crazy._

Griffin sat in his lounger, a piece of parchment smoothed over his leg. His fingers grazed lightly over the top of the snowy white owl (whose name he had learned was Hedwig) that had followed him inside and perched itself on the arm of his chair. He sighed and leaned forward, picking up the parchment, and began reading it for a third time.

* * *

_Dear Griffin, _

_Bet you've never had mail delivered by owl before, eh? This is how we do it in our world. Our being… well, you know already, don't you? What I am? _

_But what are you? I have to admit, I'm curious. I think you are, too. We should see what we can find out. What we can make happen. _

_Test the limits._

_There's a place called The Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road in London, between a book store and a record store. You won't see a sign, just a wrought iron witch stirring a cauldron, hanging above the door. Meet me there, 22 December, eleven o'clock._

_You show me yours and I'll show you mine._

_Ginny_

_P.S. Hedwig won't leave until you reply to my letter, and she'll only be patient for so long, so write me back, will you? Unless you like owl bites._

Griffin smiled in spite of himself and put the letter back down. Hedwig stretched out her neck and nibbled lightly on the back of his hand. "Okay, I get it," he muttered, and got up to search for a pen and paper.

* * *

_Meanwhile, at Paladin headquarters…_

A woman in a grey suit sat in front of a desk commandeered by a black man with white hair. In front of him were security camera images from a London mall, showing two Paladins, a known Jumper named Griffin, and an unknown girl, possible early teens, with red hair.

And a wand.

"Are you sure?" he asks her, and she leans forward, smiling tightly. "Absolutely," she responds, "and he'll lead us right to her."


	5. Symptoms of Withdrawal

**Symptoms of Withdrawal**

Ginny eyed her plate of food, too jittery to eat. Her bacon and eggs were congealing into something unfathomable in front of her, and poking it with her fork only lessened her appetite. _Stupid_, she thought to herself, _I just hope I haven't gotten Harry's owl killed_. No sooner than the thought entered her head did Hedwig herself fly over the Gryffindor table, swooped down, and landed by Ginny. In her claw was a rolled sheet of lined writing paper, commonly used by Muggles. Ginny absently fed Hedwig a piece of toast and slid the rolled paper up her sleeve. She ignored the curious looks Hermione and her brother were giving her, and then smiled at Harry, who had sighed with relief when Hedwig had made her appearance. Although he hadn't said anything, the two week wait from when Ginny sent his owl out to her return had been hard on him. Hedwig wasn't just his mode of communication with the outside world; she was his pet, and he had missed her.

Ginny contemplated going to her first class, but knew she wouldn't be able to pay attention with her curiosity burning elsewhere, so she blew off her History of Magic class and headed to her common room, which was relatively empty. Plopping herself down in an overstuffed armchair, she took out the roll of paper and held it in her hands gingerly, anxiously, afraid to open it. Finally, she exhaled a surrendering breath, found the tape holding closed the roll, and broke the seal. When she saw the note contained within, she didn't know whether to laugh at her own nervousness, be frustrated at its length, or sigh with relief at the contents.

_G,_

_I'll be there._

_G_

_PS- I love owl bites._

* * *

Hermione watched Ginny attentively during supper. Her younger friend had been distracted lately, and she was sure Ginny had even skipped a class today. _I hope everything's okay,_ she thought to herself, _I think I'll keep an eye on her_. Hermione hoped Ginny wasn't losing herself to something bigger than she was, something that would spiral out of her control.

Again.

Hermione was dying to know who the letter that Ginny had gotten was from, but she wouldn't go snooping and read her mail. That would be a violation of her trust.

Wouldn't it?

Hermione walked into Ginny's dorm and sat on her bed, thinking. All the questions Ginny had asked about how to get Muggles into the school; Hedwig taking forever to deliver a letter, Ginny's own distracted nature of late. Hadn't she spent hours doing research for a paper she wound up not even writing? Sighing, Hermione made herself comfortable on Ginny's bed, and settled in for a long wait. Until she got some answers from the redhead, she wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Ginny grumbled and blew a strand of her hair away from her face. She had been cleaning in Professor Snape's office for over an hour. Although, as far as detention with Snape went, it could have been worse. Her mind had been drifting in Potions class, and she accidentally added double the amount of an ingredient… with disastrous results. Snape had suggested that since she enjoyed making messes so much, then perhaps she'd enjoy cleaning them, as well. She had been taking all the books off his mammoth bookcase, shelf by shelf, removing what seemed like centuries of build-up both from the individual books, and the shelves themselves. She leaned towards the back of one shelf, trying to clear a hefty deposit of cobweb, when a scurrying noise made her jump, causing her head to hit the shelf above her. She rubbed the back of her now throbbing skull and winced at the sound of several books landing on the floor with reverberating thumps. Her eyes studied the door for a moment, waiting for Snape to rush in and demand to know what the noise was, but he didn't enter. Ginny braced herself and slid off the stool she had been standing on so that she could collect the fallen books. Several of them had opened when they landed, but she gave them nary a glance until one page caught her attention, and held it in a vice-like grip. _This could be it_, she thought to herself, her eyes flicking towards the door once more. She tore the page out of the book and hastily slammed it shut, balling up the paper and shoving it in her shoe before she could be caught defacing any of her professor's property. With a new sense of determination and a smile on her face, she returned to her task, never happier to have gotten a detention in her life.


	6. And Away We Go

_*My updates are a little short, but it's much easier for me to get the shorter ones posted, rather than sitting on a longer chapter and taking forever to update. I'm about to be off work for the summer, and the computers at the school where I work are much faster than the one I have at home, so there might be longer periods between updates for a little bit._

**And Away We Go**

_22 December 1994 ~ London_

Ten 'till eleven.

Ginny glanced at the clock then looked over at Hermione, biting her lip. She needed to get over to the Leaky Cauldron, and she needed to be alone when she did it. Hermione had invited her to do some 'last minute Christmas shopping' with her in Diagon Alley, at Ginny's request. Hermione had cornered her about her behavior and bizarre questions a while ago, and Ginny had admitted that there was… well, a boy. She couldn't tell her more, because she didn't know herself, and she wanted to talk to Griffin before she told anybody anything. Hermione had deduced that there must be some sort of planned rendezvous, or Ginny wouldn't have been so intent on going this specific day. While she felt like there was more going on that Ginny had revealed, Hermione knew she had to trust Ginny to do what was best for herself. "Look, I'm going to _Magical Menagerie _to get some stuff for Crookshanks. I'll meet you at Florean Fortescue's in… one and a half hours?" Ginny sighed with relief and leaned forward, catching Hermione in an impromptu hug. "Thanks. I'll be there." Hermione stood for a moment, watching Ginny run towards the Leaky Cauldron then shook her head and walked the other direction.

_I hope she knows what she's doing._

* * *

_I hope I know what I'm doing._

Ginny took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron. Griffin wasn't there yet, so she walked over to the bar and plopped herself on an empty stool, setting her bag on the stool next to her so that it would remain open. Tom, the barkeep, put down the rag he was using to wipe the mug in his hand and smiled at her. "Well, Miss Weasley! Keeping warm out there?" Ginny stopped the chattering of her teeth long enough to order a drink. Tom chuckled and placed a butterbeer in front of her, then looked past her shoulder. "And you, sir?" Ginny's back straightened and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when she heard the voice that responded.

"I'll have the same."

* * *

Griffin jumped to Cambridge Circus on Charing Cross Road and began walking down the sidewalk, his leather jacket pulled close to him to block out the cold. He kept his eyes alert for the telltale sign that Ginny had mentioned, and sure enough, there it was, right next to the most tattered looking bookstore in London, was the Leaky Cauldron. If he hadn't have been looking for it, quite specifically, he'd have never even known it was there. Griffin paused outside the decrepit door, his hand hovering over the handle, unsure of what to expect when he crossed over to the other side.

_Here goes nothing._

He tossed his head back and pushed on the door, which was much sturdier than it appeared. With a slight grunt, he walked inside, and his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The place was run down looking, dusty, old, and rather quiet. He scanned the room quickly, not paying too much attention to anyone else, until he saw who he was looking for. That head of red hair would stand out anywhere. He walked up behind her as she ordered a drink from the barkeep, and watched, intrigued, as he handed her a glass bottle of something warm and bubbly. When the barkeep, whom she called Tom, looked up at him over her shoulder and addressed him, Griffin could feel Ginny tense, and he couldn't help but smile a bit. He reached out to take the proffered bottle just as Ginny turned around to address him. The ends of her hair brushed the side of his face and shoulder as she whirled, and the unexpected closeness of his proximity caused her to lose her balance and almost fall off her stool. Griffin put a hand on her arm to steady her, then let his hand slide down until he was holding hers in his own. She gave it a light squeeze, then let it drop as she motioned to the stool next to her. He moved her bag, putting it on the bar next to her, and sat down sideways on the seat, so that he could still face her. She drained her bottle and put it down on the bar, a little more noisily than she intended, then looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, trying desperately to hide her nervousness. "Well, Griffin," she said, motioning outwards into the room with a jut of her chin, "welcome to the other side."


	7. Through the Looking Glass, pt 1

_*Thank you so much to everyone who was read, reviewed, and favorited this story. I'm still in awe that there are others who are interested in this crossover. Thanks also for your patience with the lateness of this update. I would normally write an update on my lunch break at work, but now that we're out for the summer I'm stuck with limited internet access, but I will still definitely update during the summer. This one's a wee bit short, but it would take too long to do this part all in one chapter. Part 2 will be up soon (I hope!)_

**Through the Looking Glass, pt. 1**

"_Well, Griffin," she said, motioning outwards into the room with a jut of her chin, "welcome to the other side."_

Griffin turned on his stool, looking out into the dim bar. There was the general chatter of side conversations. He grabbed a few words here and there, none that meant anything to him. At first, looking past the garments being worn by the patrons, there wasn't much to catch the eye. Then, looking closer, he began to see little discrepancies. Spoons in mugs, stirring seemingly of their own volition, animals that didn't look like any he'd ever seen before. His gaze was snagged by the cover of a book, where the image was… moving? In spite of himself, his jaw dropped. He turned back towards Ginny, about to point it out to her, when he caught her mischievous grin and it occurred to him that this was nothing new to her. The novelty had worn off long ago.

He couldn't imagine ever getting used to this.

"You haven't seen anything yet," a warm voice whispered in his ear. Griffin startled a bit, having not noticed that Ginny had leaned quite close to him, and he blushed a bit when she laughed, pleased with throwing him off his guard. She tilted back her bottle, swallowing the last of her drink, and he realized he hadn't had any of his yet. Tentatively, he raised the bottle to his lips, and took a small sip.

It was glorious.

The beverage ticked him a bit as he swallowed gulp after gulp, leaving him with a mild case of what could only be described as the 'warm fuzzies.' He placed his now empty bottle on the bar next to Ginny's and leaned back on the bar, edging towards her. "What do you call this again?" he whispered. "Butterbeer," she whispered back. "Now, let's go." She hopped off her stool, and stood before him, bouncing in barely contained excitement as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Come on," she urged, with a 'little kid who waited too long for the restroom' strain in her voice. Griffin let her grab each of his hands in hers and pull him into a standing position, leading him out the back of the establishment and into a hidden, narrow alleyway. Only then did Ginny let go of one of his hands, using it to withdraw her wand, still clasping the other tightly over his hand. He watched closely as she tapped her wand against a seemingly random series of bricks in the wall directly in front of where they were standing.

Griffin watched the wall and Ginny watched Griffin. The larger the hole in the wall grew, the farther his jaw dropped. Finally the arched doorway appeared complete in the wall, and Griffin allowed Ginny to lead him through. The first thing to blow him away wasn't the magical aspect of the place, but the sheer numbers. The sidewalks were bustling with traffic, the shoppes were teeming. The dusting of snow left everything picturesque; a Dickensian Christmas scene.

Except the clothes weren't right.

He could have laughed at the sight of so many pointed hats, billowing cloaks, erratic color schemes. Of course, he'd seen people coming out of underground clubs in London that would have loved to get their hands on some of this garb. Griffin chuckled to himself at the thought of people running around London in these clothes, and just shook his head when Ginny gave him an inquiring look. "So," he asked her, "where exactly are we?" "This," she replied, stretching out her arm, "is Diagon Alley. It is the wizarding hub of London, and the greatest concentration of wizardry in the Isles, I believe." Griffin looked around, craning his neck to take in as much as possible. "So these stores sell magical stuff? I could just walk in and buy some ruby slippers or something?" Ginny stopped walking and turned to face him. "Well, for one, you couldn't walk in and buy anything until you switched your Muggle money over to wizarding money. Two," Ginny glanced down at his boot clad feet, "I don't think ruby slippers would be a good look for you. And what's so magical about ruby slippers, anyway?" Griffin raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "You've never heard of _The Wizard of Oz_?" Ginny's brow furrowed slightly, obviously in thought. "Oz… don't think I'm familiar with that place. Where is it?"

He laughed in response.

"I think we're there right now."


	8. Through the Looking Glass, pt 2

**Through the Looking Glass, pt. 2**

_*Bet you thought I'd never update again, eh? Sorry about that! Here's the next chapter!_

_

* * *

_

_~Griffin's POV_

_Try not to stare, she said._

Easier said than done. Standing in a bank that looked like it was built by Tim Burton, waiting to switch my 'Muggle' money to something spendable in this place, my skin crawling over my body as those suspicious eyes set in the faces of the ugliest creatures on Earth keep sweeping over me… try not to stare.

Right.

Gin assures me that they're used to Muggles in this place (mostly due to their being related to magical folk), but it's hard not to feel so obviously out of place. Muggles, I've learned, are non-magic people, and I can't help but feel a little peeved that I'm categorized with them. I want to turn to the nervous looking people in line behind me and tell them that I can do things they can't, that I'm not quite as helpless as they are, but I realize how stupid a sentiment that would be.

We're all helpless compared to _them_.

When it was my turn at the _bureau de change_ I let Ginny handle the transaction. I also pretended not to notice the wistful look in her eyes when she saw the pile of gold coins I got for the bills I was exchanging. I'd been standing in line at this wizard bank for more than twenty minutes but only now did it occur to me that wizards and witches would need money, just as everyone else does… and that some might not have much of it.

I guess some things are universal.

I pocketed the coins she called galleons and let her take my hand as she led me out of Gringotts. When my eyes swept the street, my grip on her hand tightened imperceptibly, and she looked up at me, grinning. "So… you wanna talk first, or you wanna look around?" My look must have been incredulous because she threw her head back and laughed out loud. "C'mon, I wanna see the new brooms." As she dragged me down the sidewalk I pondered what could be so exciting about a broom, but obviously she wasn't the only one interested, because there was quite a crowd surrounding the display window under a sign that said 'Quality Quidditch Supplies'. Ginny not so gently elbowed us to the front of the crowd, then sighed longingly, pressing her hand on the glass. "Look at that Firebolt," she whispered, but I was more interested in the picture next to it, of someone in a bizarre, almost Medieval looking outfit, flying around on said broom.

_So… they actually ride on brooms. There's one mystery solved._

When the jostling crowd finally shakes her out of her reverie, we move on, going to shoppes housing bizarre creatures, strange articles of clothing, and a place selling wands since before the time of Christ. I soak in everything, mapping the place in my mind, before we finally settle at 'Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour'.

Ice cream. I want to laugh out loud. Of all the crazy shite I've seen today, we're going to settle in at the most bizarre spot in London and eat ice cream. I look over at Ginny, ready to make a comment about something so mundane existing in such a fantastical place, and notice her frowning at the crowd. "I'll snag us a table," she says, "you go get us something." She leaves me stranded before I can ask what she likes, so I join the line at the counter, shoving my hands in my pockets, and try not to look too out of place. When it's finally my turn, a haggard looking man with twinkling eyes looks up at me expectantly.

"Er," I mumble, looking quickly over the numerous selections, "what do you recommend?" I realize I should have been looking at the offerings while in line instead of waiting 'till I got up here, but the man just smiles and begins scooping a large portion of something chocolaty looking into a bowl. "Try this," he says, handing me the bowl, "holiday special." I take it from him and fish out a few of the gold coins in my pocket. "Make it two," I say, and try to hand him several of the coins. He takes one, leaving the rest in my hand, then hands me a second bowl and a substantial amount of change in the form of silver coins. I drop them all in the tip jar and search out Ginny, who secured us a small table in the back corner of the tiny shoppe. A large portion of the miniscule tabletop is covered by a large book she's flipping through. She looks up and smiles when I join her, shoving the book aside, but leaving it open. I hand her one of the bowls and she barely thanks me before taking a bite, her eyelids fluttering as a little moan escapes her throat. "Sorry," she says, blushing under my gaze, "this is really good."

She watches me expectantly as I take a bite from my own bowl, then grins knowingly as a shocked look takes over my face. In the bowl is frozen ice cream, but the bite I took hit my mouth like a gulp of hot chocolate, the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted, complete with marshmallows. I look down in the bowl, then back up at her.

"How…?" I stop asking as one of her eyebrows raise. _Right. Magic. Duh._ For a minute I can't help but know how Charlie Bucket must have felt. We both tear into our servings, the sound of spoons scraping bowls the only thing breaking the silence. Finally, we finish, stacking our bowls on the edge of the table, and she meets my eye, pushing the open book in front of me, all business.

"Paladins. These people are the reason the wizarding world went underground. The reason we hide our existence. Religious fanatics who want to wipe off the face of the earth anything they feel is an affront to their god."

I raise my face, eye meeting eye.

"So tell me Griffin, why are they after you?"


	9. A New Target

_*It's short, I know, but I've got the bug again and will definitely be updating with more frequency. I have a firm idea of where I want this to go and how it's going to get there, so this story should be moving right along..._

Chapter Nine: A New Target

_~ Ginny's POV_

"So tell me Griffin, why are they after you?"

He looks at me intensely. My eyes are burning but I fight the urge to blink. For some stubborn reason I feel like it's a contest. Finally he breaks contact, looks down at the table. His hands tremble slightly as he pulls the open book towards him, turning it around so that he can read from the tome. I watch his eyes move as he rapidly skims the page, then jump slightly as he slams the book shut.

"Get your things, love, and I'll show you why they're after me."

I slide the book back into my bag and stand, adjusting my shirt. Griffin shoulders my bag and moves close to me, his arm around my waist. I can feel my face turning red at his close proximity. I lean back a bit, but his arm doesn't fall.

"Um, my friend Hermione should be mee-"

I feel a slight force, as though someone has bumped into me, and my vision blurs. I blink, clearing my eyes, then gasp, stumbling backwards. I imagine that my expression must be the exact opposite of Griffin's, who is leaning against a table, smirking at me.

"Where are we?" My voice echoes slightly in the room, and my eyes dart about, searching for familiarity. There are pictures and maps all over the walls. I recognize two of the people in them from the mall. "These are all Paladins?" I ask him, and he nods.

"They hunt me, I hunt them." I raise my eyebrow a bit at his choice of words, then turn in a slow circle. "And is this the hunting lodge?" His smirk returns, but he doesn't respond. I watch Griffin slowly walk towards the source of natural light illuminating the room, then follow him towards what looks like an opening of a cave. I'm almost blinded by the sun when we get outside, but once my eyes adjust I realize where we are. I let my fingertips trace the stone slab next to me and take a deep breath.

"So…"

"I'm a teleporter. A jumper." He shrugs sinks down on his haunches, tracing some unseen markings in the sand. "And you can go anywhere?" I watch Griffin reach in his pocket. He pulls out a pair of sunglasses and slides them on, shielding his eyes from the sun. And my gaze.

"If I can see there, I can be there. No jumping blind. But yeah, there's no place I can't go." His head turns towards me slightly. "That I know of." His arm extends towards me and I take his hand in mine. I brace to pull him up but then we're back inside. I stumble a bit and he braces me against him briefly before moving away. I gesture towards a picture of the woman from the mall, the one that I attacked.

"So, they force us underground, and for hundreds of years we've lived in secret. And they had to find themselves a new target.

They've found you."

Griffin leans against a pillar, his sunglasses pushed back on his head, making his already messy hair go even more askew.

"So, now what?"

I reach up, outlining the profile of the woman in the picture with my thumb.

"Now, we stop them. Together."


End file.
